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Updated: May 12, 2025
Some of them were persons in evening dress, some were Assassins on the hotel payroll, and some were unattached Assassins. "Well, you won't have far to look for him," one of the latter said, pushing through the crowd to the table. He was a man of middle age, inclined to stoutness; he made Verkan Vall think of a chocolate figure of Tortha Karf.
Taking the disk of blue plastic from his packet, he handed it to the clerk at the desk, who dropped it into a slot in the voder in front of him. Instantly, a mechanical voice responded: "Verkan Vall, blue-seal noble, hereditary Mavrad of Nerros. Special Chief's Assistant, Paratime Police, special assignment. Subject to no orders below those of Tortha Karf, Chief of Paratime Police.
How'd they get onto PolTerm?" "About fifty or sixty news-service people Chief Tortha sent down here, this morning, with orders to prevent them from filing any stories from here but to let them cover the raids, when they come off. We were instructed to furnish them weapons and audio-visual equipment and vocowriters and anything else they needed, and " Vall grinned.
Verkan Vall concentrated on relighting his pipe, for a moment, then continued: "I would predict space-travel on that sector within the next century. Maybe the next half-century, at least to the Moon. And the art of taxidermy is very highly developed. Now, suppose some farmer shoots that thing; what would he do with it, sir?" Tortha Karf grunted. "Nice logic, Vall.
There'd been nothing to it the prophecies weren't precognition, they were shrewd inferences, and the miracles weren't psychokinesis, they were sleight-of-hand. She found herself asking: "What barbarian invasion's this?" "Oh, Central Asian nomadic people, the Croutha," Tortha Karf told her.
She shook her head and sat down in one of the chairs behind the desk; she started to relax and then caught herself and sat erect, her hands on her lap. "This won't interfere with your vacation, Vall," Tortha Karf was saying. "I just need a little help before you transpose out." "We have to catch the rocket for Zarabar in an hour and a half," Dalla reminded him.
Vall and Tortha Karf were talking cop talk about method of operation and possible size of the gang involved, and why the slaves had been shipped all the way from India to the west coast of North America. "Always ready sale for slaves on the Esaron Sector," Vall was saying. "And so many small independent states, and different languages, that outtimers wouldn't be particularly conspicuous."
You'll have to send an escort for me; I might start from my apartment alone, but I'd be killed before I got to your headquarters " The girl, who had begun to listen in the bored manner of public servants phone girls, was staring wide-eyed. "Just a moment, Councilman Salgath; I'll put you through to Chief Tortha."
Zinna's the kind of a sister I've always wished I'd had." "Well, that's all right then. But about this marriage. She was in love with Salgath Trod," Tortha Karf said. "Now, she's identifying Agent Kostran with him " "She was in love with the kind of man Salgath could have been if he hadn't gotten into this Organization filth," Dalla replied. "Galth is that kind of a man.
"I suggest that when the Paratime Police were questioning Councilman Salgath under narco-hypnosis, he made statements incriminating either the Paratime Police as a whole or some member of the Paratime Police whom Tortha Karf had to protect say somebody like Assistant Verkan. So they just killed him, and made up this impostor "
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